


From the Other Side

by honeywlf



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Background Camden Lahey, Camden to the Rescue, Closeted Jackson Whittemore, Danny Mahealani & Jackson Whittemore Friendship, F/M, Freshman Jackson Whittemore, Human Isaac Lahey, Hurt Isaac, Insecure Jackson Whittemore, Jackson Needs a Hug, Jackson-centric, M/M, Other, Popular Camden Lahey, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-02-21 14:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18703969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeywlf/pseuds/honeywlf
Summary: Jackson is obsessed with Camden Lahey. Danny thinks he's funny and says it's because he wants to make out with him but that's not true because A) Jackson isn't gay, obviously and B) who wouldn't admire Camden Lahey? Everyone does. He's captain of the lacrosse team, everyone recognises him in the halls, he gets invited to all the parties -- you'd be stupid to not to. Camden Lahey has the perfect life...at least from the view that Jackson has.





	1. Looks are Everything

**Author's Note:**

> okay so, this came to be because of a passing thought in this tw discord server i recently joined. the idea was to just throw darts at a board and pick two random characters, put them together and write a fic about them. so i spun a wheel and started writing this and it's probably one of my favorite things? never did i ever think i would be writing a jackson whittemore fic, much less a jackson whittemore/camden lahey fic but here we are???? uh anyway

Jackson watched in awe as Camden Lahey walked down the halls with his friends. It was a scene straight from a teen flick. He was flanked by friends on either side of him, their letter-man jackets prominent and showing that they belonged to some kind of club. Something bigger than them. Something important. They didn't shove people out of the way or hit on girls or insult some kids face acne--in fact, Camden was really nice to everyone. That must have been why he was so popular. No one had a single bad thing to say about Camden Lahey. Teachers loved him. Guys thought he was awesome. Girls wanted to date him.

He was always flashing bright smiles at people in the halls, whether he knew them or not. The guy practically glowed like he was the personal ball of sunshine of Beacon Hills High. There was always a light in his bright blue eyes.

"You stare any longer you might burn a hole in him," Danny suddenly appeared on Jackson's right hand side, adjusting his bag on his shoulder. Even as a freshman, Danny was starting to realize how hot he was and use that to his advantage. He finally came out over the summer, and was excited to explore all the fresh options high school had to offer in men. His green v-neck clung to his lean muscles. His Armani cologne was intoxicating.

"Shut up," Jackson grumbled as he put his books into his locker. He caught himself stealing glances at Camden as he turned the corner.

"I didn't know you swung that way," Danny mentioned with a raise of his eyebrow. 

Jackson sent a narrow glare Danny's way, "I don't. I don't want to date him, genius. I just--"

"Want him to push you up against a wall and have his--"

"I want to be him," Jackson cut Danny off before he could finish that crude thought, "Look at him. That's the guy that I need to be."

"Why don't you just be yourself?" Danny asked, "We don't need a bunch of carbon copies running around here."

"Who is myself, huh? A loser freshman? No," Jackson watched as two fellow freshman walked by. One of them had a short buzzcut and was talking a million miles a minute, waving his hands around in the air. The other had what the other lacked, a mess of hair that was in desperate need of a buzzcut. It covered his forehead and some of his eyes. As he listened to his friend ramble on, ever so often he would try to flick the hair out of his face. In his rant, the buzzcut kid accidentally hit one of the upperclassmen with his arm and instantly recoiled in fear. The upperclassman jerked at him, causing him to dramatically fall back against the locker.

"Watch where you're going," The upperclassman grunted before turning away, "Stupid freshmen."

"Yeah!" The buzzcut kid called out, "Definitely will! Thank you for the advice!"

He let out a breath as soon as the guy was gone, "Oh god."

"No," Jackson shook his head with distaste, "No, this school has enough of them."

\--

"Are you sure this is the one you want?"

Jackson prowled around the car yard, his hands in his pockets as he circled the car in front of him. It was sleek. It said "I'm expensive. I'm important. I'm worth something."

"Positive," Jackson turned to his adoptive parents, "This is the one."

The two adults exchanged looks before his adoptive father shrugged and pulled out his checkbook, "Well then that's the one we'll take."

\--

Beacon Hills High might as well have been a red carpet premiere the way Jackson Whittemore pulled up to school the next day. As he pulled into a parking space, he could feel all eyes on him. People actually moved out of his way to let him by. All eyes were on him as he parked the car and stepped out, a pair of Gucci sunglasses on his face. He could hear the murmurs of people around him and he couldn't help but turn his lips up into a smirk. Of course they were amazed and interested, why wouldn't they be?

"Oh my god," Danny sounded breathless as he approached Jackson and his new Porsche, "You didn't."

"Oh, but I did," Jackson smirked, "Well, my parents did. What better way to celebrate getting my license than a brand new car."

"That's not a car, Jackson, that's my parent's life savings, my college fund and a second mortgage on the house," Danny walked around the car, "I mean, how much did this cost them?"

"Don't worry about it," Jackson waved Danny off, "Money isn't an issue."

As people (Danny included) continued to ooo and ahh over his new ride, Jackson's eyes scanned the parking lot. He didn't know it (or didn't care to admit it) but he was looking for someone in particular. 

He found him standing a few rows away, closer to the entrance of the school. He was talking to a younger boy, probably Jackson's age, with the same curly hair as him. Camden's younger brother, Isaac. Isaac looked down at the ground, his curls shielding his face. Camden looked as if he was speaking very sternly to him, but not exactly yelling. Isaac nodded ever so often, muttering things back to him. Camden craned his neck down to get a better look at the boy's face. Then, he grabbed Isaac's head, making him look him in the eyes. They stared at each other for a while before Camden pulled the boy into a hug. Isaac held on tightly, as if his life depended on it. 

Jackson suddenly felt uncomfortable, as if he were intruding on something. He looked away just in time to see some juniors and seniors approaching him.

"Yo," One of them pointed a finger towards the Porsche, "This your car?"

"Yeah," Jackson held his head up, feigning confidence he didn't quite possess yet.

One of the other guys let out a low whistle, "Well damn, your parents must be rich, rich."

My parents are dead, Jackson wanted to say. But instead, he put on a nonchalant face and shrugged, "Yeah, I guess."

The first upperclassmen nodded his head toward Jackson, "What's your name, Richie?"

"Jackson," He told them, "Jackson Whittemore."

The upperclassmen took note of the lacrosse gear in the back of Jackson's car, "You play lacrosse Jackson Whittemore?"

"I'm trying out," Jackson told them.

"We'll see you at try outs then," The upperclassmen grinned at him and gave him one final nod before heading off with his friends.

"Do you know who they were?" Danny asked him.

"No," Jackson's thick brows came together, "Now that you mention it, they never told me their names."

"That was Davie, Elliot and Jake," Danny told him, "A.K.A. Camden Lahey's friends."

"Oh," Jackson totally knew that, "Cool."

"Yeah, you know what's not cool? The fact they were here and Camden wasn't. What's up with that?" 

"It's probably nothing," Jackson shook it off, ignoring the scene he had seen between Camden and his little brother, "Even if it is something, that something isn't any of our business."

"But--"

"We're gonna be late for class, Danny," Jackson started walking toward the school, "You coming or not?"

Danny looked hesitant, but followed Jackson to the front doors with a sigh, "Coming."


	2. Someone to Count On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson's Note to Self - Mind your business. Don't do anything for anyone ever. Also, who the hell is William Faulkner?

_"I have my mother's joy and my father's anger in me they are always at war." -futngina_

  
  
Jackson's eyes have been glued to the back of Isaac Lahey's head for the past fifteen minutes. It doesn't help that Jackson sits behind Isaac in class, but that's besides the point. It also doesn't help that Isaac has had his head so low and close to his desk, that you could think he's sniffing lines of coke or something. Jackson watched as Isaac's spine curled forward and forward until  
  
THUNK!  
  
As soon as his head hit the desk, Isaac bolted up with a sniff. He sat up in his chair, his blue eyes darting around the room at the people staring at him.  
  
"Mr. Lahey?" Mr. Lankey asked from the front of the room, "Are you alright?"  
  
"M'fine," Isaac rubbed the back of his arm across his face, "I'm fine, sir, sorry."  
  
"No, my apologies," Mr. Lankey said, "I'll try to liven the lecture up for you."  
  
There were a few snickers from around the class. Jackson could see the tips of Isaac's ears turning pink.  
  
Jackson didn't know why, but he found himself raising his hand. Mr. Lankey took a break from his notes on the board and pointed his whiteboard marker at Jackson, "Mr. Whittemore?"  
  
"He said he was sorry," Jackson spoke up, "There's no need to be a dick about it."  
  
There were a couple of ooohs from around the class. Mr. Lankey's face showed he was far from impressed.  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"No disrespect or anything," Jackson leaned back in his chair.  
  
Mr. Lankey gave Jackson a tight lipped smile, the kind of smile that said Jackson was in deep shit, "Well then, if you feel that way, you can go ahead and get out of my class. No disrespect or anything."  
  
Jackson put his hands up, "None taken. In fact, I might actually learn something."  
  
A few brave souls in the class erupted into laughed as Jackson gathered his things and headed to the classroom door. Mr. Lankey fumed at the front of the classroom. Jackson didn't care much about Lahey, he just wanted an excuse to put snarky Mr. Lankey in his place.  
  
Jackson stood outside the classroom almost half an hour later, waiting for the class to let out. As students filed out of the classroom, Jackson picked out Lahey almost immediately. Almost freakishly tall. Back hunched. Looking like he wanted to disappear. Visible low esteem.  
  
"Hey!" Jackson spoke up. Isaac flinched at the loudness in is voice and, if Jackson wasn't mistaken, actually cowered.  
  
"Isaac, right?" Jackson stepped closer to him, "Camden's little brother?"  
  
"Why are you asking?" Isaac kept his head down. Jackson thought it over before shaking his head.  
  
"Right, doesn't matter. I just wanted to tell you that you're welcome."  
  
"I'm...welcome?" Isaac questioned, "I'm welcomed to what?"  
  
Jackson chuckled, "Not to. For."  
  
Isaac wasn't getting it, "I'm welcome for what?"  
  
"Me getting Lankey off your ass when he was railing into you. "  
  
"Oh." Was all Isaac said, "Thanks."  
  
Then he tried to step around Jackson and go down the hall, but Jackson followed up.  
  
"This is the part where you say, thank you," Jackson told Isaac.  
  
"Yeah, it would be," Isaac told him, "But I didn't exactly ask for your help."  
  
Isaac continued to ignore Jackson, which fueled a fire in the aforementioned boy. His nostrils flared as he stomped over and grabbed Isaac by the arm. The force mixed with Isaac's surprised caused Isaac to end up slamming against one of the lockers. The arm that Jackson wasn't grabbing went up to cover his face, as if he thought Jackson would hit him.  
  
"Look--" Jackson growled through his teeth, before he could start his verbal assault, a voice shouted across the hall.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
Camden rushed over to them, moving as quick and swift as the sea. Within seconds, he was grabbing a hold of Jackson and pushing him away from Isaac. That meant Jackson ended up getting pushed against the locker, the metal from one of the locks pushing uncomfortably into his arm. But Camden didn't let up there. He maintained his grip on Jackson while jabbing a finger in his face.  
  
"You leave him alone," Camden's face was twisted in rage, leaving him nearly unrecognizable, "You got that?"  
  
Jackson put his arms up, trying to protect himself the best he could. His heart hammered in his chest. He didn't imagine his first interaction with Camden Lahey would be him shoving him up against a wall and being so close to him that he could smell the after shave that he wore. He didn't expect for it to fill his nose and his brain and make his world fuzzy.  
  
"Camden--" Isaac tried to speak up, but neither of them were listening.  
  
"He-hey man," Jackson gulped, "I was just sticking up for him. Tell him, tell him Isaac."  
  
Jackson gestured at Isaac, trying to mask the fear he felt inside. Camden craned his neck to look at Isaac, who stood there his mouth opening and closing like some kind of stupid fish.  
  
Someone had started chanting, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" So now the entire hallway of bystanders was thirsting for blood like this was a Roman colessuem and not a high school building.  
  
"Mr. Lahey! You let him go immediately!"  
  
The students fell silent. Ms. Rita, the vice principal, came storming down the hall. Her black cat eye glasses were low on her nose. In the quiet of the hall, you could hear the fabric of her paint suit rubbing together. Her heels clacked loudly, parting the sea of students in her way.  
  
"Mr. Lahey, I will not ask again," Ms. Rita's voice cut through the hall like a knife. Camden's eyes were still boring through Jackson's skull. A drop of sweat raced down Jackson's temple and dripped down his neck. Jackson could feel the pressure of Camden's arm on him gradually let up until Jackson was free. When he took a step back, Jackson used the space as an opportunity to finally breathe. He was relieved until Ms. Rita beckoned them both with her finger.  
  
"My office. Both of you. Let's go."  
  
\--  
  
So Jackson got detention, which was total bullshit because Camden was the one that had lashed out at him like some kind of Incredible Hulk. So he and Camden were stuck organizing books in the library for an hour and a half. It seemed kind of stupid to put two boys who had supposedly "fighting" in the same room together unsupervised, but no one said the administration at BHHS was the brightest.  
  
So far fifteen minutes had passed and the only sound that filled the room was the sound of pages rustling and books sliding on the shelf. Camden stood at the end of the shelves, the cart full of books the only thing separating them. Camden's eyes never left the shelf in front of him. He was like a machine the way he picked up a book, glanced at it and then put it in the appropriate spot on the shelf. Jackson knew this because he was paying more attention to the boy than he was paying attention to his books.  
  
It wasn't in a creepy way, he was just trying to figure out how he was going to apologize to him. It seemed like every time he went to open his mouth to apologize, Camden grabbed the cart and moved to another aisle. Jackson followed because, well, he had the damn books.  
  
Jackson held a book in his hands as he stood at the end of the aisle, "Hey look, man I just wanted to say--"  
  
"Faulkner."  
  
Jackson's eyelids fluttered rapidly because what the hell did he just say to him?  
  
"Wh-what?"  
  
Camden's eyes fell on Jackson's. One of his eyebrows arched at Jackson, asking a silent question.  
  
"The book you're holding. It's William Faulkner. It goes on that shelf over there," He nodded his chin towards a shelf that was across the room. Jackson's eyes fell to the book, suddenly feeling like an idiot.  
  
"Uh, yeah, right. Thanks."  
  
Camden hummed in response, but otherwise didn't give Jackson any more attention (and god knows he lived off that). Jackson started to make his way over to the shelf that Camden pointed out, but had second thoughts.  
  
Jackson pivoted his body so he could address Camden directly, "Hey, look. I just wanted to say--"  
  
"Isaac already told me what happened," Camden started to put another book away, but his arm stopped midway through the motion. His shoulders slumped. He set the book down on the cart and turned to look at Jackson, his hands gripping the handle of the book cart.  
  
"And look, I should be the one apologizing. That's...what happened in the hallway, it's not who I am at all," Camden's lip curled up in disgust, his eyes someplace far away. His head dropped down, "But when it comes to Isaac, you know, I just...I'd do anything to protect him. I have to. You know?"  
  
Jackson was struck dumb. He didn't know. Who did he have that he cared about that much? There was Danny, sure, but he didn't feel the need to protect him. He didn't know if anyone felt that kind of fierce loyalty toward him either.  
  
Jackson slowly shook his head, "No. No I don't."  
  
Camden's head snapped up, "You don't have any siblings?"  
  
Jackson shook his head again, "No. No, I'm an only child."  
  
Jackson squirmed under Camden's scrutinizing gaze. Camden nodded, as if he had finished formulating his conclusion.  
  
"Well," Camden returned to the book he had previously abandoned and put it in its proper place on the shelf, "Isaac's the only one I've got. And he's got me."  
  
Jackson couldn't help it. He let out a puff of air and rolled his eyes, "What about your parents?"  
  
The muscles from Camden's arm to his back tensed up. Another heavy silence blanketed the area, making it hard to breathe.  
  
"Like I said," Camden started pushing the cart out of the aisle, "We're all we've got."  
  
Jackson opened his mouth to ask what he meant by that, but was interrupting by the sound of his phone going off. He pulled it out to see Danny's face on his screen. Not giving a shit that he wasn't supposed to be using his phone in detention, he answered it.  
  
"Dude, where the hell are you?" Danny's voice sounded far away. There was a shrill noise in the background.  
  
"I'm in detention," Jackson grumbled, "Didn't you get my series of pissed off texts?"  
  
"What? No, you can't be in detention--"  
  
"Yeah, obviously I don't belong here," Jackson scoffed.  
  
"No, dude, lacrosse tryouts are happening right now!"  
  
Jackson's blood ran cold. He ran the dates over in his head, "No, no they don't happen till 4:30."  
  
"No," Danny corrected him, "They happen at 3:30."  
  
Jackson's palm slapped his forehead with enough force to attract Camden's attention, "You've got to be shitting me!"  
  
"I wish I was, so get your ass down here or you're gonna miss it."  
  
"I can't," Jackson looked toward the door, "The VP's office is right outside the library, she'll see me."  
  
"Oh," Danny's tone deflated, "'Well, I guess there's always next year, man. I gotta go."  
  
"Yeah," Danny hung up before he could say anything else. Jackson felt the fire boiling in his chest. Next year? He didn't spend all summer practicing from sunrise to sunset to tryout next year. This was total fucking bullshit. He should have never stuck up for that Lahey kid in the first place. He did one nice thing and look where it got him.  
  
The fire took over Jackson, dulling his inhibitions. His foot snapped forward and he landed a swift kick at one of the bookshelves, sending books flying to the floor. His chest heaved, his nostrils flared as he stood there, soaking in his anger. It was gone almost immediately though and Jackson felt a chill run through his body. His bottom lip quivered, his fists went to his head. His knees gave way and he ended up collapsing onto the ground, his head in his hands. Salty tears cascaded down his cheeks and into his mouth.  
  
His mind raced back to summer, waking up at six in the morning to do his run around the neighborhood. Forgetting to eat something because too busy practicing his shots. It was about mid June when he got really good at knocking down all of the bottles with one ball. Not going inside until ten pm or later. What was it all for? A chance to prove himself. To be something important. First line, no, captain of the lacrosse team. Now? Nothing. It was for nothing.  
  
"Uh, dude, you alright?"  
  
Jackson quickly rubbed his hand across his face and turned his back to Camden. "I'm fine," He snapped.  
  
Camden bent down to pick up the books that had fell onto the floor, "That's more than can be said for the books you just massacred."  
  
Who gave a shit about books? Jackson rolled his eyes towards the ceiling, "I'm missing lacrosse tryouts because I'm stuck in here. But it's whatever."  
  
"It's not whatever," Camden argued, "Clearly it means a lot to you if you're cr--"  
  
"I'm not crying," Jackson quickly shut him down, "I'm not crying. I don't cry."  
  
Camden held his hands up, surrendering in the argument. Neither of them said anything. Jackson sniffled. A door closed. Sneakers squeaked on the linoleum.  
  
"Look," Camden spoke quietly, "If it means that much to you, I'll cover for you. It's my fault you're in here anyway."  
  
Jackson's brows came together. Once he was sure there was no tears on his face, he turned to look at Camden, "What?"  
  
Camden jerked his head toward the door, "Go to tryouts. I'll tell Vice Principal Rita that you had a family emergency and had to go."

"But..."  Jackson started, "But what if she sees me out on the field?"  
  
"Everyone's gonna be wearing helmets," Camden shrugged, "Besides, she never leaves her office unless she's going to the coffee machine in the staff room."  
  
Jackson pulled himself to his feet, his eyes never leaving Camden, "Why are you helping me?"  
  
Camden shrugged again, "You...you seem like you need a little help."  
  
Jackson held his chin up, trying not to take that the wrong way. He nodded, went over to the table and grabbed his things. His keys jingled in the silence of the room. Jackson went to the door, but before he left he glanced over his shoulder at Camden.  
  
"Thanks."  
  
There was a small, quick smile from Camden. So fast it was easy to deny it had even happened. That was it. Then he went back to sorting his books. Camden was probably no doubt going to get his ass chewed out by Coach for missing tryouts as Captain, but that was the least of Jackson's worries. He needed to haul ass down there if he wanted his spot on the team.


	3. Making the Cut

"Eh, not too bad, Whittemore!" Davie's arm snaked around Jackson's head, his knuckle ruffling the hair on his head. It was hard for Jackson to breathe-- probably because he had been running, shooting and knocking people over for about two hours--but also because Davie had Jackson's face pressed into his sweaty jersey. Jackson didn't mind though, he beamed with pride from the praise. 

"Not bad?" Jake pulled his helmet off, leaving his hair sticking up all over the place, "Dude was an animal out there!" 

Jake launched himself on Davie's back, putting more weight on Jackson. Elliot also made his way across the field to jump into the dog pile. A heartfelt laugh came from deep within Jackson's stomach, lighting his face up like the Rockefeller Christmas tree. Davie finally let his hold on Jackson's head go, giving Jackson the opportunity to spin out of the way before Davie could grab him again. Jackson caught his breath and found his gaze going to the bleachers across the field. Jackson froze in his spot.

Camden Lahey stood there, his hands in his pockets, watching as people dispersed from the field. Some of the players already on the team would come over and exchange words with Camden, usually ending with a friendly pat on the shoulder before they left. Just as Jackson realised he was kind of being a creep and should look away, Camden's eyes were on him. Just like in the library, Jackson couldn't read his expression. It also could've been the fact that Camden was pretty far away, but still there was something stoic about the way his eyes watched him. It made the hairs on the back of Jackson's neck stand up. It made his insides churn.

"Aye, yo, Camden!" Davie cupped a hand over his mouth and called out to the Captain, "Get your ass over here!"

Camden did just that. He approached the group, his hands still jammed in his pockets, "What's up?"

"What's up? Bro," Elliot clapped a hand on Jackson's shoulder, sending Jackson stumbling forward just a but, "You just missed Jackson here kicking major ass on the field."

"Yeah," Davie agreed, "Where the hell were you?"

"Got detention," Camden read the wide eyed looks on his friend's faces, "Coach already chewed me out, I'll be doing suicides until I die, which is what he always says." 

Davie, Jake and Elliot grumbled in agreement. Davie throws his arm around Jackson's shoulders again, literally taking him under his wing, "That's what you'll have to look forward to during practices."

"If he makes the team," Camden pointed out. Jackson's pride was wounded. Why the hell would he not make the team? He worked his ass off to get here and at least he didn't accidentally hit Coach with the ball like Stilinski did.

"Oh he'll make the team," Jake spoke up, "Trust and believe that."

\--

"Jackson! Jackson hold on, wait!"

Jackson ignored Danny's calls as he shoved his way through the hallway. He had been waiting all weekend for this, it was the only thing on his mind day in and day out.

A blonde gave him a sour look as he pushed past her and stood in front of the wall. His eyes skimmed over the list like some sort of super computer, his pulse pounding in his ears. He mouthed the names on the list as he went down to the bottom. His eyes got to the bottom of the paper and the world stopped in its place.

He could feel Danny towering behind him. Danny's finger went onto the paper and slid down as he read the list. His hand dropped to his side. He took a step back.

"Oh my god."

A guttural noise came from Jackson's throat.

"I'm...I'm first line," Jackson turned to his friend, raising his arms in the air, "I'm first line!"

As Jackson embraced his friend, two girls watched them from across the hall. The tall brunette with green eyes, Lauren Moore, filed her nails as the wheels turned in her head. Her emerald eyes were wide with her piqued interest. They traveled up and down Jackson, calculating his worth. He was a freshmen, but he was the only freshmen who had made first line. He was pretty hot. His friend was pretty hot. They didn't look like losers. He would be perfect.

"Him," She said to her freshmen friend. 

Her friend's head poked up from her AP Biology book, "What?"

Lauren raised her eyebrows and pointed her nail file at the boys behind her. Her friend turned around to look at them. There was a boy with a military-esque buzz-cut and his friend who had way too much hair on his head. They both looked at some list on the wall and started whooping and hollering like animals, drawing judgmental looks from people passing in the hallway.

"Them?" Her friend raised her eyebrow.

"No, not Bert and Ernie," Lauren rolled her eyes, "The ones behind them."

The other girl looked behind, just as her friend suggested, "They're freshmen. I thought you told me that I should date an upperclassmen."

"One of them made first line on the lacrosse team," Lauren smirked, "He also hangs out with Davie and drives a freaking Porsche. He might as well be junior, maybe a senior. He's going to be a legend. You date him, you'll be the ultimate power couple. You don't date him and someone else will. Then she'll be the one throwing kick ass parties and hanging out with the cool kids. Is that what you want, Lydia?"

Lydia's bottom lip jutted out in a pout. Her eyes looked over the boys, "No."

"Then you know what to do."

Like a switch, Lydia went into predator mode. A sly smile formed on her glossy pink lips. With a toss of her hair, she made her way over to the boys. She leaned against the wall, jutting her lip out.

"Congratulations," She practically purred, just as she had been coached by her older friends, "I think you're the only freshman to make first line."

"Really?" Jackson looked to Danny for confirmation. Danny nodded.

"But you made the team, right? I saw your name on there," Jackson went to look at the list again.

"Yeah, as an alternate goalie," Danny shrugged, "It's cool and all, but it's not first line."

"So my friends and I are throwing a party Friday night," Lydia interjected, "You should totally come."

"H-hey Lydia," The buzzcut boy wrung his hands on the straps of his backpack, "I made the team too."

Lydia's eyes swiped over him, "Did you make first line too?"

The buzzcut boy wet his lips, "Well, no--"

Lydia turned back to Jackson, a smile plastered on her face, "Give me your number, I'll text you the address."

"Uh, yeah, sure, okay," Jackson pulled his phone out and handed it to her. Her perfectly manicured finger tips tapped away on his phone. Then she held it out at arm's length, pursed her lips and took a selfie. She handed the phone back to him.

"Text me," Her fingers lingered in the palm of his hand longer than they needed to. Their eyes met, shooting electricity through Jackson's body. Her lips curled up into a soft smile before she turned and strutted back down the hall.

"Who the hell was that?" Jackson was caught off guard still, in awe almost.

"Lydia Martin," Buzzcut boy Stilinski spoke up, also watching her walk away, "Or as I like to call her, the most beautiful woman in the world and my future wife."

Danny shook his head, not getting the fascination with her, "She's a freshmen HBIC in training. See how the junior and senior girls have taken her under their wing? But honestly, they're only friends with her because her family has a killer lake house where they can throw parties without them getting shut down by the police."

"She's a freshmen?" Jackson asked, "How come I've never talked to her before?"

"She only talks to people that her friends deem worth their time," Danny looked Jackson over, "And congratulations, I think you made the cut."


	4. Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jackson's first high school party doesn't go exactly as he imagined. In some ways, it totally does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings - long overdue chapter, panic attacks, sexual themes and mentions, existential crisis, sexuality talk, this isn't all the way proofread bc im impatient and a moron so if you see something that's off uhhhhh lets just ignore it haha thanks for coming

Jackson hated this song. 

For starters, it was too loud, the bass was too heavy and he couldn’t even hear what the singer was trying to say. It was just a lot of shouting and synth. Not like anyone else cared. He was in a lake house surrounded by teenagers--half of them drunk off their asses and the other half pretending to be. 

He had lost Danny somewhere between the front door and the kitchen, so now he was standing by himself a red solo cup in his hand, wondering what he was doing here in the first place.

“Jackson!” A shrill voice called out. Lydia approached him, her glossy pink lips in a greeting smile. Her green halter dress was tight, hugging her hips and pushing her breasts up towards her chin. Her strawberry blonde tresses were curled loosely, cascading over her left shoulder. She had on a lot of dark eye makeup and Jackson couldn’t tell if she was going for runway model or raccoon. Other than that, Lydia was pretty cute. Hot, even. They had only had a total of two conversations--the first being when she found out he made first line and the other being a brief text conversation that went something like this:

[ Lydia 8:52 PM ]  
2470 Stokes Canyon Road is the address. ur still coming, right ?

[ Jackson 8:53 PM ]  
Yea

[ Lydia 8:53 PM ]  
great ! see you then, wear something cute 😘

What the hell was “something cute”? Why did he need to wear it? Danny helped him pick something out, because if there was anyone Jackson trusted with fashion choices it was Danny. No, not because he was gay, alright? The guy wore Armani, he knew how to not dress like a fucking runway accident.

So there Jackson was, wearing one of Danny’s tight red v-necks with an equally tight black denim shirt, rolled up and cuffed at his elbows. Thank god the jeans he was wearing gave him some sort of breathing room, otherwise Jackson would be flopping like a dying fish on Lydia’s floor.

So despite the fact they had only really had one actual conversation, Lydia wrapped her arms around Jackson like they were old friends and pressed her lips to his cheek. It was a wet and sticky kiss, Jackson was definitely not a fan of the lip gloss. 

“Hey,” He greeted her lamely, wrapping an arm around her waist. Her hair was incredibly soft as it brushed against his finger tips. She smelled strongly of something that was probably from Victoria’s Secret and named “Exotic”, “Seduction” or “‘Please Have Sex With Me”. 

She pulled away to look at him. Her eyes were a mossy green, he recognized the color from his runs through the forest at six am. They way they raked over him made him feel warm and naked.

“You look good,” Jackson wished he could make this shit up, but Lydia actually purred when she said that. The tone of her voice mixed with the way her eyes looked over him like he was a rotisserie chicken or something sent a chill down Jackson’s spine and made his toes curl.

“Thanks,” He managed to finally say, “So do you.”

“Oh, I know,” She didn’t give him much time for a rebuttal. She stepped closer to peer into his cup, “What are you drinking?”

“Uh,” Jackson waved his cup half heartedly, “I just grabbed some punch--”

“Punch?” Her laughter was dry and mocking. It made Jackson clutch his cup tighter. “Sweetheart, it’s a party, not a Communion.”

She plucked the cup out of his hands with her perfectly manicured fingers and replaced it with a new one that smelled strongly like paint thinner.

“Try this,” She jutted her hip out to the side as she watched him sniff the cup, “Go on, it’s not going to bite you.”

Jackson wasn’t an idiot. He knew what Vodka was and he knew he didn’t want to drink that shit without a chaser. He held his hand out for the cup of punch, making Lydia smirk.

“So you do know what you’re doing,” Lydia put the cup back in his hands, “Here I thought you were a virgin. A party virgin, that is.”

“I’m not a virgin,” He told her, leaving it vague so she could take that however she wanted. He threw the shot of vodka down, quickly covering up the burning that blossomed between his ears and in his throat with the sweet punch. 

“That’s what I like to hear.” Jackson looked at her, wondering if she was just a big talker. She was only a freshman and this was their first semester, how much could she possibly get herself into?

“I take it this isn’t your first time either?” Jackson wiped his hand across the back of his mouth and set the cup down on the counter. 

Lydia shook her head, her curls shaking loosely, “Oh no. I definitely know what I’m doing.”

Jackson raised his eyebrows, “Oh, really?”

Lydia made a humming noise as she stepped closer, running her hand up his chest. Now that she was closer, Jackson could smell the vodka that lingered on her breath, “If you’d like a demonstration, I can definitely make that happen.”

That was the last solid conversation he remembered having with Lydia. He remembered the burning of more alcohol going down his throat. He remembered the sound of bells, or was that Lydia’s laughter? He could recall her hands running through his hair, her chest pressed up against his and the way she smiled up at him.

The next thing he knew, he was shirtless and making out with Lydia in a closet.

Not the place he would’ve chosen, personally. One of her friends, Lolly or Becky or something, had roped them into a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven. He didn’t even remember his name being called or getting into the closet. That wasn’t even important. What was important was that Lydia’s mouth was on his, her body was pressed against his and suddenly his pants didn’t feel as breathable as they did at the beginning of the night.

Her lips were slick and tasted like strawberries, so Jackson could actually appreciate the lip gloss now. 

The kiss was frenzied, filled with loud smacking noises, soft sighs and guttural grunts. Lydia was mostly taking the reins on this one, which Jackson was more than okay with. That was, until she started heading down and fumbling with his belt buckle.

“We don’t have much time left, so we’ve got to be quick. But I don’t think that’ll be a problem for you,” Lydia smirked up at him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what are you doing?” Jackson asked, his hands going up in the air.

Lydia was down on her knees in front of him, illuminated by a single light bulb in the tiny closet. She looked at him, a lost expression on her face, her hands still on his buckle, “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“I--” Jackson was at a loss for words. He couldn’t believe this was happening to him here and now, “You--I don’t want you to--”

“You don’t want me to?” Lydia raised an eyebrow at him, “First time I’ve heard that.”

“No, I mean, I--” It wasn’t that he didn’t want her to. He just didn’t want his first blowjob to be in a closet in Lydia’s lake house during a game of Seven Minutes in Heaven where everyone was listening just outside the door, “I don’t want you to do this here.”

“We could go upstairs,” Lydia offered, “My parents have guest rooms.”

“No, no I don’t--”

“I don’t get it,” Lydia asked, “Am I...am I not pretty enough for you?”

“No!”

“No?” Lydia arched a brow. He wasn’t helping himself here.

“No,” Jackson sighed, “I just, I don’t want you--”

“You don’t want me to give you a blowjob?” A look of realisation passed over Lydia’s face, her glossed up lips popping open, “Oh my god, you’re gay, aren’t you?”

“WHAT?” 

“Oh, that makes total sense,” Lydia nodded her head, “Usually I can pick up on those things, but wow--”

“I’m not--” Jackson tripped over his words, trying to explain to this girl that he wasn’t gay. Not that there was anything wrong with it, there wasn’t and anyone who thought there was could fight him on it. “I’m not--I’m not gay. Why would you think that I’m gay?”

“Well, Danny’s gay,” Lydia explained, getting to her feet after she realised that this was going nowhere.

“So?!” Jackson guwaffed, “You think just because Danny’s gay that I’m--that the gays all just herd together?”

Lydia’s index finger pressed down on her pursed lips, “Hmmm.”

“I’m not gay, Lydia,” He insisted through gritted teeth, “I’m just…”

He broke off in a sigh, tired of trying to get through to her. By the look on her face, she already had her thoughts and theories about him. Plus they were kind of drunk, talking reason was out of the question.

“You’re just…?” Lydia proded. When Jackson gave no answer, she laughed, which only made him angrier. What was so funny? She was the one so desperate to put her mouth on his junk two minutes ago. She gathered up the clothes they had ended up discarding and handed his to him. As Jackson pulled his shirt over his head, she shimmied her green dress up her body. 

“Listen, Jackson,” Lydia tossed her hair over her shoulder, “Whatever you are, or aren’t, I hope you figure it out quick.”

She raked her fingers through her hair, trying to make it look the least bit presentable, but still like she had got some action. She moved back towards him, her chest pressed against his. Jackson found himself holding his breath as he looked down at her. There was a slight smile on her face, but no malice as her eyes looked over him. It was a bright curiosity if anything, like she was a fairy or something. She pressed her lips on his cheek, before moving her mouth towards his ear.

“You can come out whenever you’re ready.”

He didn’t like the double implication of that. She patted his shoulder before opened the door to the closet. The bright lights and noises coming from the rest of the house disorientated Jackson, he had to hold his arms up to block out the invasive sensations. Lydia closed the door behind her, and the world was dark again except for the single lightbulb hanging in the closet. It swayed back and forth, occasionally buzzing like one of those bug lamps. The ones that zap you dead. Jackson’s pants were still too tight and he had to walk out there in front of everyone who would be waiting for him. 

He wished someone would zap him dead.

-

After the Lydia fiasco, Jackson needed air. He ended up on the back porch, but the bass from the music was still too strong there, so he headed out onto the pier. Was it smart for a partially drunk teenager to be out by a larger body of water? No, but that’s why he figured it would be a good spot. No one else was there.

He was wrong.

When he got there, there was a guy pacing back and forth on the pier. His phone was pressed to his ear with one hand while the other hand skipped rocks on the water. Jackson could only see the back of his head, but between that and his voice, he knew who it was.

“You sure everything’s alright? I’ll come home if you need me to...no, it’s not that great,” Camden stifled a laugh, “Trust me, I’d rather be home all things considered.”

Jackson froze as Camden looked back at him. He must’ve looked like a creep or an idiot, standing there like a statue on the pier listening to his conversation. Camden offered no reaction towards him. No eyebrow raise. No smile. Not even a nostril flare. He just turned back to the pier and kept skipping his rocks.

“Alright bro, call me if you need me, okay? Love you,” Camden hung up and pocketed his phone. As if Jackson wasn’t even there, he picked up another rocked and set it flying towards the lake.

“Party’s back there you know.”

It took Jackson a minute to realise that Camden was actually talking to him.

“Uh, um, yeah, I’m,” Jackson cleared his throat. He had to get his thoughts together so he didn’t sound like a bumbling idiot, “I’m not lost, I just needed some fresh air.”  
Camden stopped his rock skipping and turned to look at Jackson, “Are you drunk?”

Okay. Maybe he didn’t do as well as he thought.

“Maybe a little,” Jackson shrugged, “You’re not?”

“I don’t drink,” Camden turned back to the water, rolling a pebble between his fingers, “Hate the stuff.”

“Well I don’t think anyone actually likes the taste,” Jackson took a step closer to him. He tried to keep his feet as planted as possible. The last thing he wanted was to go flying into the lake. Danny would kill him if he got his clothes back smelling like fish water, “Everyone just drinks to get drunk.”

“Yeah, well, I hate drunks too,” Camden threw the pebble at the lake, much like the others, “And I’m not going to babysit an underaged drunk so can you sit down somewhere? Your wobbling is making me nervous.”

Jackson debated on telling him to fuck off, but he figured that was the alcohol talking. He also didn’t know where else to go, so he unceremoniously plopped down onto the pier. The wood creaked beneath him, he hoped to god he didn’t get a splinter from this thing. 

“Lydia Martin tried to give me a blow job in a closet.” He didn’t know why he was telling Camden this. He didn’t care, but suddenly, he had the urge to talk about everything and anything. If Danny was here, he’d tell Danny. Where was Danny anyway?

Camden didn’t say anything, so Jackson kept talking, “I didn’t let her and she got pissed off.”

“A girl got pissed off because you wouldn’t let her suck your dick?” Camden made a noise that sounded like a cross between a snort and a laugh, “Wow. You’re a legend, Jackson Whittemore.”

Hearing Camden Lahey say his full name made the muscles in his legs tense up. 

“I don’t feel like a legend,” Jackson grumbled, kicking one of his feet with the other, “I feel gross.”

“Alcohol will do that to you,” Camden didn’t look at him as he talked. It made Jackson feel like he was in a therapist’s office or something. Or confessional. Yeah, confessional.

“And then she thought I was gay, which I’m not,” He quickly added the last part so Camden didn’t get the wrong idea, “I just didn’t want her to suck my dick with an audience, you know?”

“But Jackson,” Camden said, “That’s initiation. You have to get a blowjob in the closet of a house party in order to be on the team. She’s going to tell everyone you turned her down and the other guys won’t accept you.”

Jackson’s eyes widened. Did he really blow his shot? “Wh-what?”

The corners of Camden’s eyes crinkled, his lips splitting into a shit-eating grin, “I’m kidding. Totally pulling your leg, dude.”

Jackson covered his face, falling onto his back as Camden laughed at him, “You’re such a dick.”

“You have no idea,” Camden muttered, “But it kind of feels like that’s the case doesn’t it? You have to do certain stupid things in order to be “accepted”. I’m glad they got rid of the blowjob rule though.”

Jackson stared at Camden for a long time until the older boy cracked and began laughing. Jackson shook his head, his own fit of laughter taking over, “Oh, I didn’t know you were funny.”

“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Jackson,” Camden’s tone was light, but there was a heavy weight in his words. Good thing Jackson was too drunk to pick up on it.

“But if you think about it, it’s stupid,” Camden shrugged, “There’s so many other things going on in the world. Important things. Then you get to school and it’s like, “What car do you drive?” “Who did you sleep with?” “What shoes are you wearing?” And none of it matters. None of that shit matters.”

Jackson lifted his head up, “I drive a Porsche.”

“My point exactly,” Camden shook his head, “You’re what, fifteen? What the hell do you need with a Porsche?”

“It’s a bitchin’ car,” Jackson defended, “People love my car.”

“Yeah, but do people love you?”

The question shouldn’t hit as hard as it does, but for some reason it strikes a horrible feeling in Jackson’s body. It’s a spike that impales through the top of his head and out of his tailbone. 

Did people love him? The question stole the air from his lungs, leaving him frozen on his back. Was he loved? Was he worthy of being loved? He wrestled with the question every hour of every day and not even the buzz of the alcohol could save him from this existential crisis. 

Not this time.

“All I’m saying is driving a Porsche doesn’t make you a better or worse person,” Camden went on, deep in his philosophical musings, “But if you strip away all the material things, take away the cars, the clothes, the money, who are you? Who is Jackson Whittemore?”

Jackson felt the world slipping away from him. He fell into a void of blue as he stripped the material things away from himself. The cars, the clothes, the money--they all came from his parents. His adoptive parents--the Whittemores. He was an orphan. He didn’t know his real parents. He didn’t know their faces. He didn’t even know their names. He didn’t know where he came from. Without the Whittemores adopting him, he could’ve lived a completely different life. He could’ve been someone completely different down to his last name. The possibilities were endless, swirling around him. Without all the material things, who was he? Who was Jackson Whittemore?

“I’m nothing,” Jackson’s statement was almost inaudible. His heart hammered in his chest. He couldn’t breathe.

Camden looked over at Jackson, hearing the way he got all choked up. Jackson was sinking into a void, an empty abyss and he couldn’t pull himself out.

He was nothing. No one. Not important. Miniscule. No one. Nothing. He had no identity.

“Hey, dude,” Camden was hovering over him, but it was almost as if Jackson was out of his body. His face didn’t register. 

He was nothing. No one. Jackson Whittemore might as well not exist. 

His lungs seized up, depriving him of the air he so desperately needed. The spouts of oxygen that managed to slip in came out in short bursts and gasps. What the hell was happening to him?

“Jackson, Jackson, I need you to sit up, okay? Come on,” Jackson vaguely felt Camden’s hand on his back. Before he knew it, he was no longer staring at the night sky, but rather the water out in front of him. His breathing didn’t get any better.

“Wh--what’s going on?” Jackson choked out, “What’s wrong with me?”

“I think you’re having a panic attack,” Camden explained, “Have you ever had one before?”

Jackson shook his head, trying to gasp down air into his burning lungs. Camden shifted so he was sitting directly across from him.

“Okay, it’s okay, you’re alright,” Camden put his hands on Jackson’s knees, “You just gotta breathe, alright? I’m gonna help you breathe through it. Just copy me, okay?”

Camden took a deep breath in through his nose and expelled the air through his pursed lips, “Can you do that?”

“I don’t--I don’t--” Jackson stammered.

“Yes you can, your body’s programmed to do it without you even thinking about it,” Camden gave him an encouraging smile, “Sometimes, you just gotta give it a little jump start. It doesn’t have to be perfect, it doesn’t have to be pretty, you just gotta get that air into your lungs. You got this.”

Jackson tried to copy the breathing pattern that Camden started, but he felt like a choppy, broken down car. A skipped record. A beatboxing idiot. He could feel himself getting choked up, but there was always Camden’s voice in his ear encouraging him to keep going. He could do it. He got this. He believed in him.

Before he knew it, his breathing had slowed down and the buzzing in his head quieted down. The only sound he could focus on was the synchronized breathing of him and Camden. 

Camden let out one final breath, “You good?”

Jackson nodded, “How did you…”

“My brother, he gets panic attacks all the time,” A look passed over Camden’s face, almost as he regretted saying that, “So I um, know a thing or two.”

Jackson nodded again, but could feel his face burning. A panic attack? Over what? An existential crisis? How stupid he must have looked. 

“Well,” Camden grunted as he got up to his feet, “I think you’ve had quite a night for your first high school party.”

Jackson’s eyes followed Camden, thinking the older boy was going to leave him out here by himself.He wouldn’t expect anything less, he had acted like a total freak. He expected that Camden was probably going to tell all his friends and when he got to school on Monday, he’d be the laughing stock of the lacrosse team. Either that or Lydia would actually tell everyone how he freaked out in the closet. Neither of those was what he needed right now.

However, Jackson didn’t expect Camden to his hand out toward him, an inviting smile on his face, “Come on, I’ll take you home.”


End file.
